In the waning light we watched in awe as the leading edge of the
water slid down the wash, paralleled the road for a bit, then flowed
across the pavement. The water picked up speed, pushing foam and
debris before it.

Richard Stover, Jackie Stroud and I had been hiking near Chuckwalla
Mountain, east of Joshua Tree National Park when the rain started.
The peak itself was obscured by the clouds, and we headed back to the
BLM Corn Springs Campground where Jackie's truck was still parked.
Our way back to the campsite was blocked by a rushing torrent
crashing across the road. There was nothing to do but hunker down for
the night. We found a relatively high, level spot next to the old
highway, prepared a tailgate supper, and tried to sleep.

At 4:30 a.m. all three of us were startled awake by the brilliant
flashes of lightening in the sky to the south. Hastily throwing gear
into the truck, we hightailed it to Blythe in a steady downpour,
luckily having to cross flowing water only once.

I won't bore you with the details of our late night vigil at the
Blythe Denny's, or our trek to the local K-Mart to replace the stove
we ran over in our hurried flight, or our fruitless attempts to
contact the County Public Works Department or BLM to learn the
probability of our ever getting back to Corn Springs.

Suffice it to say we eventually made it back, recovered Jackie's
truck, then proceeded to further adventures in the California desert.
We drove east on the sandy Palen Pass Road that afternoon with plenty
of daylight to notice the wash out and feeble attempt by the BLM to
route people around. Word of advice: Don't drive this road too fast
or you might miss the detour. The resultant plunge into the wash
probably wouldn't be fatal, but it would be a heck of a mess.

We were off to climb 4331' Granite #2, the highpoint of the Granite
Mountains in the Palen-McCoy Wilderness. We opted for the approach
from Palen Pass Road since we weren't sure of the condition of the
4WD approach to the other trailhead at Packard Well after the rains.
Trip reports on this peak mention climbing the wrong mountain and
returning after dark. I am happy to report we were no exception.

On our first attempt we left at 6:15 a.m. to hike up the 1.5-mile
road which is now within the wilderness boundary and can no longer be
driven. Then across the desert floor for almost 2 miles to the start
of the climb. We chose the ridge approach; unfortunately, it was the
wrong ridge. I had forgotten my altimeter at home. Everything looked
right; we hiked over a point, traversed to the right and ascended a
summit. The real peak was towering over us further north. "We'll just
have to come back tomorrow," Richard stated.

Jackie opted out and agreed to position her truck at the trailhead
and turn on her headlights every 20 minutes or so if we didn't return
by dark. The next day we left at 5:00 a.m. since there was plenty of
moonlight and wouldn't be at sunset. It was no hardship since we had
been in bed for hours. Taking more care with our navigation, we chose
the wash route and had our selection confirmed by the plentiful DPS
ducks.

The wash held quiet beauty. We found desert lavender in bloom, pools
of water from the recent rains, a tiny black snail sporting a white
shell with a black median stripe, and more. As we approached the
ridge, it became extremely windy and cold. At last we made the summit
at noon.

Retracing our steps, we skirted the 25-foot class 4 waterfall,
scrambling down 3rd-class rocks and managed to reach our
strategically-placed strobe light just before dark. We held the
flashing strobe aloft so Jackie could see we were on our way.

That evening we celebrated New Year's Eve with hot soup, a toasty
campfire, and the company of a wee canyon mouse with its tufted tail.
The New Year's Day drive out to a paved road turned into an
unexpected wildflower preview. The abundant rains had brought forth
dune evening primrose, brittlebush, narrow-leaved popcorn flower,
rush milkweed, brown-eyed evening primrose, fairy duster, sand
verbena, desert sunflowers and more.